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KEWEENAW 



Of this book three hun- 
dred copies were printed 
and the types di^ributed. 
Of the three hundred 
this is Number ^00 



KEWEENAW 

BY WILLIAM C GRAY 



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A STORY FROM TH' 
NORTH WOODS 



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This edition of Keweenaw was 
made by William Gray Purcell 
and Frederick Folger Thomas, Jr. 
during the summer evenings of 
Nineteen Hundred and Five at the 
Acorn Press, Berkeley, California. 



fTHE L!"8K*»,riY OF 
CONGRESS, 
Out. OOJ»v RtOE.vEU 



I COPY A. I 



Cc^yright 1893 

by W. C. Gray. 



ACORN JfPR£55 




i 

i 



5 



PREFACE 

Keweenaw was written by Dr. Gray on 
one of his firsl fishing trips in the North 
and appeared in "The Interior** Augu^ 
1 885 as a part of his "Editorial Corres- 
pondence** which was sent to the paper 
weekly while on his vacations and event- 
ually took definite form in the "Camp Fire 
Musings** of Island Lake. A seledion of 
these writings was given book form in 1 894 
and this ^ory found a place in it. 

The desire to give to the friends of Dr. 
Gray his be^ work in a worthy form and 
to introduce others to his writings has heen 
happily met with an intereft in the crafts- 
manship of printing and this edition of 
Keweenaw is the result. Imperfe<5tions 



1905 PREFACE 

are to be found in the book as an example 
of printing, but it has been hone^y made 
and with delight in the work. We hope 
that the new form into which Keweenaw 
has been ca^ may prove worthy of the 
author and his ^ory. 

w. a p, 
F. F. r. 



AND NOW THE STORY 



KEWEENAW 





'ANSE is a dead old village, but 
Tt has what few of the mining 
and fore^ towns of this region have — 
its romance. We heard that there was 
good trouting in this neighborhood — 
in fad, you can catch them right 
there off the railroad bridge — and we 
stopped to try it. We took a team and 
drove around the head of the bay some 
ten miles, to a beautiful little stream that 
falls out of the hills into the lake, and 
soon filled our baskets. Now look across 
the bay, please, and you will see a clump 
of buildings. That is a convent. Its 
hi^ory goes almost back to the days of 
Marquette, and as we drove near to it, 
it looked ancient enough to be on the 



W. C. G. KEWEENAW 

shores of Lake Leman. Those buildings 
which you see this way along the bluffs 
are an Indian village. Take your glasses 
and look into the lake a mile this side 
of the village, long reaches of gill-nets, 
and at the end a large net supported 
by four po^s. This last is a fish 
pound. It is a great sheet of netting forty 
feet square, let dovm into the water like a 
bowl. The Indians put their catches of fish 
into it to keep them alive until they are 
ready for market. 

The question at once arose in my mind 
why a convent so extensive should have 
been e^ablished in a wilderness place, 
so far away from any white fx)pula- 
tion as this was when it was built. It? 
bell rang out over the calm waters and 
back into the deep foreils, where there 
were none to answer its call to prayer, 



KEWEENAW W. C. G. 

unless they should be the wild Indians, 
"There has been many a broken heart 
behind those walls," remarked our team- 
^er — we rode in an open jolt-wagon be- 
hind a pair of farm horses. 
"How is that?** I asked. 
"Well, sir, there is some mystery about 
that convent; there mo^ always is about 
such places. People make them up out of 
their imaginations. It is said that it is a 
refuge or place of penance for fallen nuns, 
and that is why it is so far away from 
anywhere. It may have been so, or it 
may not; and then the idea was softened 
somewhat, and it was said it was a place 
of refuge from the cruel world for fallen 
girls ; and if it were, sir, I should think all 
the more of it. You see, sir, the world 
hasn't any mercy for those who need 
it mo^, nor the church either for that 



IV. C, a KEWEENAW 

matter; and so the only place where such 
could find peace was in the bottom of the 
river, or out there in the lake. There are 
two things Tm thinkin that the world needs 
mo^ to provide for in these times, shot- 
guns for betrayers, and mercy for the be- 
trayed, where they are women/* 

The driver drew a horny hand across 
his face and lapsed into silence. There was 
more feeling in his tone than in his words, 
and I perceived that there was a my^ery 
in his brea^, whether there were one in 
the convent or not. But the subjedt was 
changed and we drove on, and at the end 
of two hours from the ^art, forded a clear 
and beautiful ^ream. 

"Here we are,** cheerily said the team- 
^er, as he sprang out on a little grassy pla- 
teau and proceeded to unharness and teth- 
er his horses. The others had put their rods 



KEWEENAW W. C C. 

-^ I I III Ill MBIII I M II ■ nilHIl II ■ I I I 

together as we came, and immediately left 
the wagon cind began tlie sport. Not three 
minutes had elapsed when there was a 
shout and a beautiful three-quarter pound- 
er was landed. But I left my pair of lance- 
woods in the case and waited till the team- 
ster was ready, when I told him to lead 
off, and I would follow. He soon struck a 
trail, which I was glad to see had not been 
tramped that year, and at the end of a mile 
and a half I heard that sound so joyful to 
a trouter, the music of a waterfall. I hand- 
ed him one of my rods, and we soon had 
them jointed up, and the first fly I sent in- 
to tlie pool was responded to instantly. 
We kept well out of sight, and in an hour 
1 had as many as I wished to carry. We 
sat down together on a fallen pine. I 
looked at him in silence for a time, and he 
returned my gaze with a glance. 



IV. C a KEWEENAW 

"What was it?** I asked in a low tone. 

"What was what?** he responded, with 
a look of surprise. 

"What was it in connedion with the 
convent which gave you such a shudder 
of painful recolledion?** 

"Oh, my God !** he exclaimed, and cov- 
ered his face with his bent arm, as if 
he would shut away something from his 
sight. "I hoped that it would fade out, 
and that I would feel better, but it don't. 
My arms ache longing to do something 
to undo what is done, and my heart 
aches. Sranger, I had a lovely wife not so 
very long ago. We rough men of the 
woods and mines don*t get credit for more 
than what is seen on the outside. But I 
had sense enough and grace enough to 
take that dear woman all into my heart, 
and what you may happen to see in me 



KEWEENAW W. C G. 

that pleases you is the impress of my wife's 
soul and spirit. But she died. Yes; I will 
tell you the story. It's good to have human 
sympathy." 

Pausing briefly to consider what was 
necessary by way of explaination to me, he 
resumed. 

"Have you been up and over that 
point — over Keweenaw Point — north of 
the river? No ! Well then, you should know 
that that whole country is strewn with the 
wrecks of fortunes, fortunes lo^ in the cop- 
per craze. There are villages, good houses, 
redudtion works, machinery, everything a- 
bandoned and deserted ; good roads, bridges, 
fills, the whole a total loss. 1 was in that 
myself. Thought I had struck it rich on a 
little ftream that runs not far from the light- 
house above Copper Harbor, and others 
thought so, too. You see that is on the 



IV. C. a KEWEENAW 

we^, or rather north, for the point bends 
ea^, side of the point, about ten miles from 
the ea^ern extremity. I put all I had into 
the company and took charge of the men, 
built a comfortable pine-log house, and was 
hopeful and happy. There my wife died, 
and there she lies buried. 

**My Nellie, all that I had left, was just 
stepping into womanhood. Nellie was 
beautiful, tall, fair, rosy, soft-eyed, the 
sweetest disposition, and she dearly loved 
me. Oh! how often, when I came in 
soiled from the mine and tired, she came 
running with a glass of water, or with slip- 
pers for my coarse feet, or threw her white 
arms around my tawny neck. I always 
knew I was not good enough for the love 
of such angelic creatures as Nellie and her 
mother. O Nellie! Nellie!" and he sprang 
to his feet and extended his arms as if to 



KEWEENAW W, C. G, 

clasp her, and then lifting them, exclaimed, 
"Oh, my God!" 

I was myself affected to tears by this un- 
controllable outburst of grief and anguish. 

After a time he resumed, as if in a so- 
liloquy; 

"Yes; his father was a good man, and is 
now, though his son was a devil. He palmed 
a sham marriage off on her. Blind fool that 
I was! It is I who am to blame. 

"I think that Nellie's mind was broken 
down by grief and weeping, first by his 
long absense, and worse than all when it 
came out that he had decieved her by a 
mock marriage, and would never return. 
I thought that her little babe would bring 
back some sunshine into her heart, and it 
did seem to for a time, and then it seemed 
to become a constant reminder. 

"We had a trim little sail-boat, only a 



W. C. G. KEWEENAW 

good-sized row-boat, but decked in at each 
end closely. She had a deep keel, a light, 
tough mast, a good sail and tiller, a safe and 
beautiful sailer. Her decked-in compart- 
ments, fore and aft, were water-tight, and 
she would float, anyway. 

"Now, wife and I were familiar with 
the country here around the head of Ke- 
weenaw Bay, and we used to talk abont 
the old convent in Nellie's hearing. Wife 
said that so long as a broken heart was 
bearable, it was belter that it should beat 
in the convent than lie still at the bottom 
of the lake. 

"Everything went to pieces on Kewee- 
naw about the time my wife died. People 
were pulling up and moving off; but Nellie 
and I staid, though there was nothing to 
stay for except wife's grave and Nellie's bro- 
ken heart. Except the few, here and there 



KE WEEN A IV W. C. G. 

one, who remained, as I did, the whole point 
above the Calumet was abandoned. 

"One morning of a June I awoke soon 
after sunrise and went to call Nellie. She 
was gone. Baby was gone. I called and 
called. My heart seemed to be freezing. 
While rushing about here and there 1 caught 
a glimpse of a boat through a rift in the trees 
a mile out at sea. 1 knew the sail. It was 
the 'Alice,* and a glass showed me that 
Nellie was holding the tiller. The wind 
was from the north-ea^, and I saw that 
Nellie was tacking, aiming to make the end 
of Keweenaw Point. She had been so 
often out with me in the 'Alice* that she 
could handle the boat as well as 1 could. 
About she came, inshore, rising and falling 
on the long swells, and then off again to the 
north. I shouted, even though I knew my 
voice would not reach her, and then rushed 



IV. a a KEWEENAW 

forward to reach the point, six miles away. 
I plunged through thickets, dashed along 
the bodies of fallen pines, clambered over 
ledges of rocks, and at la^ reached the 
bar at the top of Keweenaw. 

"The wind had gone down, leaving 
Nellie at the end of a northea^ern reach 
which would have brought her clear of 
the land. I sat and watched the boat» which 
was two or three miles out, idly rocking on the 
water. She could have used the oars if she 
had chosen, but she did not. With my glass 
I saw her take up the babe and press him 
to her bosom. What little wind there was 
drifted her back and further out to sea. 
Hours of agony passed. By going down 
on the ea^ coait of Keweenaw seven miles, 
I could have gotten a boat, but i dreaded 
to lose sight of her, and I knew that the 
Acamer Peerless ought to pass that day 



KEWEENAW W. C. G. 

between the point and Manitou, and if 
she did she would pick Nellie up. Beside, 
I felt sure that Nellie would round the 
point and come down, probably near shore. 
So I waited and watched. The *Alice* was 
a mere speck, far out to the north, as even- 
ing drew on. But I saw the wind strike the 
glassy water beyond her. It was due north. 
The white sail filled out. Southeastward 
she flew. Oh, if she would only tack now 
and come down before the wind ! Though 
she was three miles or more out I put my 
hands to my mouth for a trumpet and shout- 
ed, *Steer for the bar, Nellie! Steer for the 
bar, love! Here I am!* 

"At last the boat came about square 
before the wind, and went like a bird. Due 
south she went; close along the shore of 
Manitou she seemed, but she kept right 
on, and at last tacked again southwest to 



W, C. a KEWEENAW 

follow the shore of Keweenaw, then due 
we^. Thank God she was nearing the 
land! I arose and plunged along the shore 
in the gathering darkness. I was weak 
from facing and grief, and I tumbled and 
fell often. The la^ I saw of the 'Alice* 
she was bearing inshore, but it became too 
dark to see. Fortunately, there was ahead 
of me a three-mile Wretch of sandy beach, 
and gaining this I ran with all my remain- 
ing strength southwestward along the shore, 
shouting as loud as I could! 'Nellie! Nellie, 
dear! come to land!' 

"About half way along that beach as I 
ran, 1 heard baby cry. I stopped and list- 
ened. Right out from shore he was, not 
over a quarter of a mile away. 

"'Nellie! Nellie! tack and come straight 
inshore. Here I am!* 

"No reply came back, but as baby kept 



KEWEENAW W. C. G. 

on crying, I quickly perceived that the boat 
was keeping on her south we^ward course, 
tliough she seemed to be nearing land. 

**1 rose and ran again, following the 
voice of the crying child as nearly as the 
water would permit me, and I was able 
to keep up with it till the end of the sandy 
beach was reached. Here a bay ran in- 
shore, and the bluffs were dense with pines 
and fallen timber. 1 managed to clamber 
the bluff and reach the cliff at the mouth 
of the bay, and paused to li^en. Nellie's 
sweet voice singing a lullaby to baby — faint 
and far, fainter and farther, farther and 
more di^ant, and then only the low swash 
of the waves on the rocks. 

"It was not so very dark on the shore, 
but the moment I entered the fore^ it be- 
came pitchy dark. I mu^ now go due 
weft to get around the bay. I ftruggled 



W. C. G. KEWEENAW 

with the underbrush and rocks, and with 
the dry limbs of fallen trees, on and on, 
making but little progress. How long this 
struggle continued I know not. The last 
I knew of it I had hope quickened in me 
by seeing a star up in a rift of the pines. 

"I was awakened by a crash of thunder 
and a dash of rain in my face. So stiff 
was I and so full of pain that it was a tor- 
ture to move; but I recalled the situation 
and sat up, and found a log to rest my 
back against. A quivering vibrant flash 
of lightning showed me the lake below, now 
rising into angry waves. The crash over- 
head seemed to go off southward in long, 
loud mutterings, following the wake of my 
dears. I prayed, oh! how I prayed, not 
for myself, but for my child and her babe. 
Then I rose, defying the pain and tried to 
press forward, but found myself very weak. 



KEWEENAW W. C. G. 

Fearing that 1 would go off again into in- 
sensibility from faintness or sleep or what- 
ever it was, I stopped to consider. 

"The summer storm had soon spent its 
fury, and as the clouds broke away I saw 
that the east was gray with the early June 
dawn. I sat dov/n and waited until I could 
see, and then soon struck a good 'tote- 
road* which led to an abandoned mine, 
where I knew there was a family remaining, 
and a boat. 

"I pushed forward, arrived at their 
house, roused them, and before they had 
time to rise, I lighted a fire for making 
coffee, and in a little over a half-hour I 
was refreshed and we were off in chase 
of the 'Alice.' 

*'We kept a keen lookout both inshore 
and out, and having only moderate wind, 
with occasional calms, when we pulled at 



W. C. G. KEWEENAW 

the oars, we reached the mouth of 
Traverse River by the middle of the af- 
ternoon and topped to inquire. Yes; the 
keeper of the lighthouse had seen a boat 
scudding southward before the coming 
^orm at the peep of early dawn. She 
made as if she would come into port, so 
near that the keeper, in the dim light, with 
his glass saw di^indly a woman with the 
sheet-rope in one hand, the tiller in the 
other, and a babe lying across her knees. 
Then she put cut to sea again, and very 
soon the clouds came down black and 
close and the lake rose in combing seas. 

"Such was the flr^ news we had of the 
*Alice* and her precious cargo. Still I 
didn't lose hope. I knew that Nellie knew 
the boat, and that the boat would climb 
almo^ any sea if she were held right. The 
only thing was to push ahead. Fortunately, 



KEWEENAW W.C.G. 

a little ^eam yacht just then came out of 
the river, and we hailed her, boarded her, 
and Captain Wilson at once undertook 
the chase of the *Alice.* 

**We steamed along slowly, examining 
every creek and nook. Nothing was seen 
till we came in sight of those Indian fish- 
ing nets which you saw out in the bay in 
front of the convent. There lay the 'Alice' 
on her side, lodged again^ the netting ** 

The teamster here choked up. 

"You recovered the bodies?" 

"No— n— no, sir. This cold lake never 
gives up its dead." 

"Nellie was trying to make the con- 
vent, you think?" 

"Undoubtedly; and but for the ^orm 
she*d a-made it safely." 

"But you say she passed the lighthouse 
aU right?" 



^r. C. G. KE WEEN AH' 

"Yes; and the wind that was flying her 
then was the fir^ puff of the itorm. I 
think she would have ridden it out anyway. 
But you see, the poor girl had been out 
twenty-four hours then, already, and she 
had to hold the sheet-rope, and the tiller, 
and baby, too, in a rolling sea. She couldn't 
do it. I reckon she let go the rigging to 
hold baby, and was knocked over. It may 
have been miles out." 

As we returned and the convent bells 
sounded across the quiet bay, the lines 
came to my mind: 

"Let the bells toll. A saintly soul 
Floats o*er the Stygian river." 



SEP 11 19C5 
IE COPY RECElVtii 



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